gnovel Chapter 118: The Mission
Chapter 118: The Mission
A newly woven bamboo curtain hangs under the eaves of Cining Palace, and rainwater flows down the bamboo strips, splashing onto the stone steps.
Zhang Quwei stood outside the palace gate with an umbrella. When he saw Zhao Bozong walking in through the rain, he bowed slightly.
"Your Highness, the Empress Dowager is waiting for you."
Zhao Bozong gathered his raincoat, shook off the water at the palace entrance, and then stepped over the threshold. Zhang Quwei gently closed the palace door behind him and retreated to the end of the corridor.
Consort Wei sat by the window in the side chamber, neither stringing prayer beads nor reading scriptures. In front of her was a rough earthenware teacup; the tea had gone cold, and a few water droplets clung to the rim.
"Sit down." She pointed to the armchair opposite her.
Zhao Bozong sat down, and rainwater dripped from the edge of his raincoat, staining a small dark patch on the blue brick floor.
"The Emperor has ordered you to oversee the handover of the annual tribute," Consort Wei said calmly. "Do you know why?"
"I know, the Emperor is trying to put Qin Hui in a bad light."
"It's not just a reprimand." Consort Wei picked up her teacup, took a sip, and put it down again. "The Emperor is testing you. He wants to see if you, a prince of the imperial clan, can do something worthwhile for the court. If you handle the tribute handover well, you'll have official standing in the court; if you mess it up—"
Consort Wei didn't finish her sentence, but Zhao Bocong understood: if he messed things up, Zhao Gou would have a reason to take back all his privileges and lock him back in the palace, making him an obedient caged bird.
"Your Majesty, rest assured, I will not mess this up."
Consort Wei's gaze lingered on Zhao Bozong's face for a long while.
"I'm not here to instruct you on any errands," her voice suddenly softened. "I'm here to ask you something: what are you going to do in Jiangbei?"
Zhao Bocong remained silent.
"The tribute handover point is on the north bank of the Huai River, less than thirty li from the nearest Jin garrison. You, a prince of the imperial clan, leading five hundred imperial guards and dozens of carts of silver and silk to hand over the tribute, are nothing more than a fat sheep to be slaughtered in the eyes of the Jin. But you came to Cining Palace to see me before you left, which is certainly not to say goodbye. You came to pick up something."
Consort Wei took something out of her sleeve and gently placed it on the table.
A shard of broken porcelain.
It was even smaller than the one he had been given before, only the size of a fingernail, but it was ground extremely thin, with edges as sharp as a small blade.
"This is the second piece of porcelain I ground in Wuguo City," Consort Wei said softly. "I gave you the first piece long ago as a token. Keep this one close to you; if you ever find yourself in dire straits in Jiangbei, it may be more useful than a weapon."
Zhao Bozong took the broken porcelain shard; it was icy cold to the touch, as thin as a piece of ice.
"There's one more thing." Consort Wei stood up and walked to the window. Raindrops pattered on the window paper.
"The Emperor may verbally tell Qin Hui to rest, but Qin Hui will never stop there. On the day you leave Lin'an, Wan Qixie will definitely plant at least ten Imperial City Guard spies in the tribute delegation under the pretext of protecting the imperial family. The task of these ten people is to monitor your every move and record everyone you meet and every word you say."
"I understand."
"You are unaware that Qin Hui has planted a hidden agent in Huaibei, who has been lying dormant for five years. This person, posing as a Jin merchant, operates within Jin territory, ostensibly procuring supplies for the Jin Marshal's Office, but secretly gathering intelligence on the Song Dynasty for Qin Hui. I heard of this person when I was stranded in the north, but I did not know his name. You must be very careful; a spy who has been lurking in Jin for five years is already intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of that land."
Zhao Bozong carefully tucked the broken porcelain shards into a hidden pocket inside his robe. "Empress Dowager, if I were to find those lurking figures north of the Yangtze River—"
"Bring them back." Consort Wei turned to look at him. "I have been trapped in the north for sixteen years and have seen too many people who yearn to return south but never have the chance. Now that you have come all this way, do not make them wait endlessly any longer."
Zhao Bozong stood up, performed the junior's bow to Consort Wei, and turned to walk out of the side pavilion.
Zhang Quwei was waiting at the end of the corridor. The rain had lessened a little, but it was still drizzling.
"Your Highness, this old servant will escort you to the palace gate."
The two walked under umbrellas through the rain corridor of Cining Palace. After a few steps, Zhang Quwei suddenly slowed down.
"Your Highness, this old servant knew a captured Song man when I was in Wuguo City. He was a clerk in the Jin Dynasty's Marshal's Office."
Zhao Bozong turned his head to look at him.
"This man's surname is Shen. After being defeated and captured in the seventh year of Shaoxing, he remained in the north and never returned south. I do not know his full name, but he lay low in the Jin Kingdom for six years and possessed a complete roster of officers from the Jin Kingdom's Marshal's Office. After Yue Fei's death in the eleventh year of Shaoxing, he sent a message to me through someone."
Zhang Quwei lowered his voice: "He said that he had memorized the names and resumes of all the Jin military officers who had fought against Yue Fei's soldiers, and that if anyone from the south were to go north in the future, he would be willing to hand over this list."
Zhao Bozong paused, then asked, "Where is this clerk surnamed Shen now?"
"I have no way of knowing. Since I returned to Lin'an, I have not heard from him again. But I know that the Han Chinese civil officials of the Jin State Marshal's Office would accompany the Jin State delegation to the north bank of the Huai River to receive the annual tribute every April. As long as he is still alive, he will definitely appear at the handover site this April."
Zhang Quwei tilted the umbrella slightly towards Zhao Bocong: "After Your Highness arrives at the north bank of the Huai River, pay close attention to the Han Chinese documents in the Jin delegation. They are not wearing Jin clothing, but rather old Song robes, and are responsible for translation and document recording within the delegation."
What are his distinctive physical features?
"He was about forty years old. He had a scar above his left eyebrow, which was caused when he was captured in the seventh year of Shaoxing and was struck by the back of a knife by a Jin soldier."
Zhao Bocong silently noted down these two features: the Han Chinese scribe with a scar on his left eyebrow in the Jin delegation.
When the two arrived at the gate of Cining Palace, Zhang Quwei stopped and handed the umbrella to Zhao Bocong.
"Your Highness, this old servant will see you off here."
Zhao Bozong took the umbrella, nodded slightly, and turned to walk into the vast rain.
Zhang Quwei stood inside the palace gate, watching Zhao Bozong's figure gradually disappear into the rain and mist. He then returned to Cining Palace and whispered to Consort Wei, who was twirling prayer beads by the window, "Empress Dowager, His Highness has departed."
Consort Wei did not turn around, her fingertips twirling a string of plain wooden prayer beads, slowly stroking each bead.
"Light the long lamp in front of the Cining Palace," she slowly instructed, "and keep it lit until he returns safely."
……
April 20th, North Gate of Lin'an.
Zhao Bocong stood on the stone steps inside the city gate, watching the tribute mission's carriages and horses slowly assemble in an orderly manner.
Two hundred and fifty thousand taels of silver and two hundred and fifty thousand bolts of silk filled thirty oxcarts, each covered with a thick tarpaulin, with the Song Dynasty dragon flag flying above the shafts.
The five hundred imperial guards were divided into two teams, with the front team leading the way and the rear team bringing up the rear.
The mission was headed by Zhao Bocong, and the deputy head was Zhang Cheng, the Vice Minister of Revenue, an elderly official over sixty years old. Zhang Cheng had been in charge of the tribute accounts in the Ministry of Revenue for twenty years and was very familiar with the purity and quantity of silver and silk.
Zhao Bozong noticed that there were at least ten unfamiliar faces in the Imperial Guards. These people stood in a completely different posture from the ordinary Imperial Guards. Their backs were slightly hunched, and their eyes did not look straight ahead. Instead, they kept scanning the crowd around them.
As Consort Wei had predicted, Wan Qixie had already planted his spies within the delegation.